


Road Trip Playlist

by Chuchiwan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eventual Sex, Feelings, M/M, Slow Burn, lots of talking, relationship building, short little stories that could be read on their own but are all connected.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 09:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18775807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chuchiwan/pseuds/Chuchiwan
Summary: Sam and Dean have a lot of time to themselves driving all over the country between hunts. Mostly they spend that time just letting the radio fill the silence. But what happens when they actually start to spend a bit more of that time talking?





	Road Trip Playlist

**Author's Note:**

> Hey~ so. This was originally just a one-shot I never published, but i’ve Decided to expand upon it a bit. I don’t know when I’ll put the next parts out, but here is the first little bit. Enjoy~

It had been hours since Dean and Sam had started off from Boonville, California. There was a vamp nest in Portland, Oregon that was dragging them away from, what Dean had decided was their ‘Californiaction’. 

The heat of late July was eased by the breeze that blew through baby's rolled down windows. 

Dean drummed on the steering wheel to the beat of the guitar solo playing from the radio. He often had to rely on music to keep him from going insane. Between Sam taking a nap and the next five hundred miles before they stop for the night, he needed something to do besides stare at the asphalt Baby was eating up.

Somewhere between the council and backseat, there was a discarded fast food paper sack that- if he remembered right- had a few loose curly fries. Keeping his eyes on the road (for the most part, anyway) his right hand searched blindly for the leftovers.

But then something truly horrible happened. The car went from being filled with that sweet sound of Van Halen to the deafening sound of static. Dean hadn't been expecting it to cut out so soon. Forgetting about the curly fries, he fiddled with the channel dial. His eyebrows scrunched together when nothing but white noise came through.

“C’mon…” Dean mumbled, growing irritated. Then, there was the whisper of a voice, he dialed over to where the music was stronger, keeping his eyes on the dried up road in front of him. 

But the song… eh, Dean wouldn't even call it a song. God, was beat poetry even allowed on the radio? He scrunched up his nose and turned the radio off completely. 

“Well this sucks ass.”

In this situation, normally, he would pop in a tape and call it good. But some douchebag in Pennsylvania saw their dad’s vintage leather bound tape case as an easy score and broke into Baby while Sam and him were having dinner. Whoever it was had taken Dean's precious collection and a number of Sam's shirts. 

No music then. That was fine- totally fine. He had done this before. 

Two minutes went by. Dean looked over at Sam. His brother had put his jacket against the passenger side window as a pillow and was soundlessly dreaming the drive away. Dean looked back to the road.

Thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes is how long it took for the silence to get to Dean. He couldn't sit completely still and kept adjusting his lap belt for no reason. So many times he had looked to Sam, trying to will his brother to wake up. But he couldn't wait any longer. With a sigh of resignation he shook Sam's shoulder roughly.

“Hey, wake up.” 

Sam took a deep breath in as if he was a corpse reanimated. He turned over, first looking out the front window where the shiny ass of an oil tanker drove in front of them, then to Dean.

“Where are we?” His voice was thick with sleep. Dean shrugged and wiped the sweat trail away from his forehead. “North of Clearlake I think.” Sam stared for a moment, most likely working out that they were no more than three and a half into their ten hour drive, and with that figured out he turned back to his makeshift pillow.

Dean shook him again “Hey, I'm dying of boredom over here.” Sam didn't turn back “Dean, I was up late last night. Just turn on the radio.” “There's nothin’ on, unless you like beat poetry.”

“...Some of its good.” It was a mumble but Dean gave his brother a disturbed glance before blinking it away.

“I'm just gonna chalk that last comment up to sleep drunk nonsense for the both of our sanity's sake.”

Sam didn't respond. Now Dean was irritated, he punched Sam in the side and almost laughed when Sam yelped “Dean! What the hell!?”

“I swear to you, Sammy. If you go back to sleep, I'll throw this car into a death spiral at a hundred miles an hour. Do you really want that to happen?”

They locked eyes and the seriousness in Dean’s eyes made Sam hesitate. His older brother had done some really stupid things when boredom got the better of him. With a sigh, Sam sat back in his chair and Dean turned his eyes back to the road. “You're that bored, huh?”

“Yep.”

There was a minute of silence and then Dean was groaning in frustration “C’mon, Sammy. Say something- talk about anything.” But Sam was at a loss. “Like what?” Dean made a spastic hand gesture and shrugged “I donno, uh- the vamp nest. What do we know?”

Sam nodded, still a little annoyed that he was entertaining Dean instead of sleeping “Well, they've been sticking mainly to victims at the Portland Bazaar-”

“What, that thing where a whole bunch of artsy-fartsy people get together and sell their garbage? so, what. Our vamp’s got a taste for hipster blood?”  
“Apparently. There's a park nearby where all the bodies have been showing up. The police think it's one of the homeless people that often sleep there but the puncture marks are definitely not stab wounds like the report says they are. It looks like multiple vampires sharing victims- Another thing they are ignoring is the fact that nothing was stolen off of the bodies.”

“Okay, so, got any ideas where we’ll be looking for the nest?”

Sam thought about it for a long moment “No? When we get there it will be easier to get more info. But I'm guessing it's a group of new vamps, maybe a group of teenagers that got turned by a lone vamp. If they had been doing this for a while they wouldn't be so stupid to leave the bodies in such a public place.”

“True.”

The conversation died again. Sam blamed their father mostly for his horrible conversation skills but he guessed that meant Dean was pretty awful at this too. 

“So…”

“So… here we are.”

Sam groaned, tossing his head back against the headrest, and rubbing the sun out of his eyes. They should really invest in some sunglasses one of these days. “Dean. I’m tired and I don't know what you want me to talk about.”

“Just talk to me.”

“I don't have anything to say!” Now the air was filled with not only uncomfortable silence but tension created by Sam raising his voice out of frustration. Dean would never admit it out loud but he took a personal joy out of frustrating Sam. It was something about the way his little brother's voice raised an octave and words ran into each other in his rush to get them all out.

But he couldn't smile, that would piss Sam off and then he’d have to suffer through Sam's bitchy mood the rest of the drive. He would just let him simmer for a bit, cool off, before he tried to irritate him again.

Dean watched silently as the oil tanker finally turned off from the highway and thanked whatever gods were listening that he could drive faster now.

“I spy with my stunning little eyes-”

“Dean.” Sam warned but the smile twitching at the corners of his lips gave him away. Oh, if Sammy only knew how much that encouraged his antics. And Dean- well, he took I Spy very seriously (as of the moment). 

“-Something…blue.”

With the roll of his eyes, Sam took a look out his window. Might as well play along. Beats the stiff silence any day. 

There weren't a lot of cars on this stench of the road right now- no blue cars or anything as simple as that… well, except the most obvious thing. 

“You mean the sky?”

Dean shook his head with a wickedly proud grin on his unshaven face. “Nope.”

“Nothing else is blue.”

“Giving up already, Sammy?”

“Yes. What do you see that's blue, Dean? Because apparently I'm blind.”

“Your eyes.”

Sam paused for a moment and Dean smacked his shoulder playfully. “Betcha didn't think about that one.”

“Uh, yeah I didn't. Because my eyes aren't blue.”

That drew Dean's eyes away from the road momentarily to give his younger brother an incredulous glance.

“ ‘Course they are. I think I’ve seen them enough to know-”

“No, Dean. They're like, hazel or something.”

“Or something? You don't even know what color they are. Lemme see ‘em.”

Dean squinted at Sam's eyes trying to figure out what color he was seeing. His brother's eyes grew wide and he reached for the steering wheel to jerk the car back into its designated lane. 

“Dude, pay attention to the road!”

“They're blue, I'm tellin’ ya.”

Despite the kick of adrenaline in his veins from the near-crash experience, Sam found himself sinking back into his seat tiredly. 

It was quiet for a minute or so after that. Then, Sam started, almost reluctantly “I spy something brown…”

Dean grinned “Atta boy, Sammy.”


End file.
